What if Everybody Loves a Clown
by Katy M VT
Summary: What if Sam's phobia got the better of him, plus my AU reason of why he's afraid of clowns. Spoilers for season 4. Chapter 4 of 4 up
1. Fears of the Clown

What if Sam's phobia got the better of him?

Sam and Dean sat in the rusty old van they had borrowed from Bobby while waiting for the homicidal clown to show up. Dean was sleeping, Sam was keeping watch. He saw the little girl through the window approaching the door. He nudged Dean. "Wake up, show time."

They got out of the van, managing not to make too much noise, with the old creaky doors and snuck in the house by a side entrance. When the little girl approached the stairs with the clown, they were waiting, blocking his access to the upstairs.

"Get the girl away, Sam," Dean yelled.

Sam just stood there. "Sam!" Dean yelled more urgently. Sam just stood there frozen. The clown took advantage of the situation and jumped out the window, breaking glass. The girl started screaming and of course the parents came running.

"What did you do to my daughter?" the father demanded.

"Come on," Dean urged and grabbed Sam's arm. Luckily, his frozen state appeared to have worn off.

SSSSSSS

"Do you really think they saw the plates?" Sam asked as the ditched the van in the middle of nowhere.

"I don't know. Better safe than sorry, plus I hated that thing anyway," Dean said. "Sam, what the hell happened back there?" Dean finally asked the question that he'd been putting off since they left the house.

"I don't know. I was scared," Sam admitted.

"Of a clown?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, so? You're afraid of flying," Sam said, lamely trying to justify himself.

"It's not the same thing," Dean said. I managed to get on a plane without freezing stiff. A plane we knew was going to crash, by the way."

"I don't know, Dean. What do you want me to say?"

"Why are you so afraid of clowns? I mean, considering what we see on a daily basis, clowns seem pretty harmless. Even homicidal ones."

"Just leave it alone, Dean," Sam said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Fine," Dean agreed for now. I will get to the bottom of this later, he vowed to himself. "So, what do you think that thing is anyway? A ghost wouldn't have had to break the window to get out."

"I don't know. Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash will know something," Sam suggested as he pulled out his cell phone and headed into the cornfield, partially to check for a stronger signal, partially to get away from Dean.

SSSSSSSSS

When Sam came back out to the road from the field, he said "Rakshasa."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Ellen's best guess. It's an ancient race and it turns invisible and eats people."

"OK. Does Ellen know how to kill it?" That was all Dean really cared about anyway.

"Brass blade," Sam replied.

"I think I know where we can get one of those," Dean said.

"Where?" Sam asked.

"The blind knife thrower," Dean replied.

"Good thinking," Sam said. He'd been so preoccupied with his fear of the clown, he couldn't even see the obvious place to get a knife.

SSSSSSSS

"Excuse me," Dean said as they approached the blind man. He didn't want to startle him.

"Yes? You're the boys writing the book, right?" he asked.

"That's right. We were wondering if you could help us out with something?" Dean asked.

"What?"

"We need a knife made of brass," Dean said.

"What for?" Karpazian asked.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain," Sam chimed in. "We would only need to borrow it for a couple of days, then we'll give it back."

"It's for research for our book," Dean added.

"OK, well come on back to my trailer, and we'll take a look."

Sam and Dean followed him into his trailer. "I need to use the bathroom, why don't you two look through that chest. I'm not sure if I have one made of brass or not."

Sam and Dean started looking, their backs to the bathroom door. Sam stood back and said, "I don't see anything made of brass, Dean."

"There's still a few more left."

Sam heard the bathroom door opened and turned towards the sound. He froze when he saw the clown standing there. He wanted to warn Dean but he couldn't even do that.

"Did you find one, Dean?" the clown asked.

Dean didn't bother turning around, "No," he answered in frustration.

"You know why I don't have one?" he asked, while Dean continued to search.

"Why?" Dean asked, refusing to give up hope of finding one.

"Because that's the only thing that can kill me."

Dean slowly turned around to find the clown and his frozen brother. "You?" Dean asked.

"Me," he replied with an evil smile, pulling a knife out of his oversized pockets.


	2. Petrified

The clown decided it would be best to go after Dean first. The frozen moron in front of him wouldn't be much of a threat. The clown drew back his blade and aimed it towards Dean ready to let it fly. Dean was quicker, though and hurled himself forward and down, tackling the clown at the knees. They both went down to the floor in a heap.

They rolled over a few times, the knife coming out of the clown's hands and skittering away underneath the bed. Sam stood transfixed by all this. "Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to gird his brother into action. Nothing.

The clown ended up on top and pushed himself off of Dean and glanced around looking for the knife. When he didn't see it immediately, he turned towards the trunk filled with other knives. Dean made it onto his feet and lunged at the clown, but he heard him and sidestepped out of Dean's reach. However, Dean had managed to put himself between the clown and his trunk of knives. Unfortunately none of them were brass. They wouldn't kill the accursed clown.

"Sam, let's go!" Dean said, grabbing for his brother's arm.

The clown realized he couldn't let them leave. They would only come back later…with a brass blade. He reached for Sam's other arm and they began a tug of war. Dean thought Sam would help and tug with him, but he remained as immobile as ever. Well, immobile wasn't exactly the right word, he was shaking violently.

With one final violent tug, the clown managed to wrest Sam from Dean's grasp. "Extreme phobia," the clown said. "It's rare, but so powerful. Get away from the trunk."

"Yeah, right. So you can grab a knife out of there and kill us both. I don't think so," Dean said, once more approaching the clown and Sam. However, the clown was backing up and pulling Sam along with him. He hit the bed. When he looked down, he saw the gleam of the knife, sticking out from the edge of the bed. He quickly bent down and grabbed it. Dean used that moment, to close the distance between them and made another grab for Sam. This time the clown was quicker and brought the knife up to chest level.

There was a knock at the door. "One word and he's dead," the clown hissed to Dean. Dean nodded. He wouldn't bring civilians into this mess anyway. That was rule number one.

"You're on in five minutes," the voice on the other side of the door said.

"Great, now what?" the clown asked.

"You could just let us go," Dean suggested.

"Not going to happen. I have to kill you, change and be on stage in five minutes," the clown fretted.

"I don't think you're going to make it."

"Guess not. This life is over for me. I loved this life, but at least you'll pay," the clown once again, brought the knife to bear on Dean, who decided to just ram into both the clown and Sam and try to grab him again. The clown was caught off guard and Dean managed to haul Sam to his feet and propel him out the door. Once out of sight of the clown, Sam was fine.

"Sam, you almost got us both killed back there," Dean yelled when they were well away from the crowds of the carnival.

"I know," Sam said, hanging his head down.

"Seriously, you need to tell me why you're so afraid of clowns."

"I'm not sure really. I remember when I was five, I went to this circus with another kid and his mom."

"I remember that. You came back with a cut on your arm. Dad asked the mom about it and she said you had gotten lost for a little while and she wasn't sure how it happened. You had nightmares for weeks after. I told dad I was worried about you, but…" Dean trailed off, unwilling to speak ill of their father so soon after his death.

"Well, there was a clown there and something happened, but I can't remember what."

"What?" Dean asked.

"I don't remember," Sam snapped.

"Well, try," Dean urged.

"I've been trying since we started this case. I can't remember," Sam was close to shouting.

"Well, I think you're going to have to sit the rest of this one out," Dean said. "Go get a hotel room and stay there until I come get you," Dean said testily.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"I know you are, Sam. Just go, OK?"

Sam trudged off, and Dean felt bad, but what else could he do. He swore to his father that he'd watch out for Sam and Sam and clowns were clearly not mixing.

Dean knew the first order of business was to get a brass knife, so he headed out to a specialty kitchen store he remembered seeing on the way into town.

SSSSSSSSSS

"I am going to make those two morons pay before I leave this town," the clown said to himself. He was currently invisible and strolling through the carnival grounds. A couple of people turned towards the sound of his voice, but decided they were hearing things.

The clown came upon the brothers as they were splitting up. He smiled to himself, as he followed the phobic one. "Easy pickings," he thought to himself.


	3. Memories

Sam got a hotel room and went in thinking of all the ways he had let Dean down. As he sat down next to the bed, he noticed the brass candle stick holders. He thought they were oddly out of place in the typically trashy hotel he had picked, but then noticed that one of them had a jagged edge. He figured the owner picked them up cheap and decided to try to class up the joint with them.

While still looking over the broken holder, he heard a noise behind him. He swung around, but didn't see anything. He immediately knew what it was and knew he had to strike before it manifested, or he would be frozen with terror yet again. He thrust the holder into the air, where the movement had occurred and was rewarded with a screech. The clown became visible, but lay dead at Sam's feet. Unfortunately, that didn't make it any less scary to Sam, and he reverted back to his frozen state. His mind unfroze, though, and he remembered what happened all those years ago.

Flashback:

Sam saw a puppy and wandered away from Jeff and his mom to follow it. The puppy seemed to wait for him and then run off just as he was about to reach it. Finally the puppy scampered into a tent. Sam hesitated for a moment and decided to follow it inside.

"Hello there, Sammy," said a clown.

"Hi," Sam said. "I'm looking for a puppy."

"There's no puppy," the clown assured him.

"No, I saw him come in here," Sam maintained. Even at five, Sam was pretty stubborn when he knew he was right.

"You just thought there was because I wanted you to come in here," the clown informed him.

Sam was about to ask him what he was talking about when he looked up and noticed that the clown's eyes were yellow. "What's wrong with your eyes?" Sam asked backing up towards the entrance. He was suddenly very afraid.

"Nothing's wrong with them. They're yellow because I'm a demon."

Sam thought he had heard the word demon before but couldn't remember where. He thought it was a bad thing, though. He turned to run, but the clown/demon grabbed him and pulled him back inside the tent. Sam opened his mouth to scream, but the clown put his big gloved hand over his mouth and nose. "Promise you won't yell or scream and I'll let you breathe," the clown said. Sam nodded vigorously. The clown said, "That's a good boy," and removed his hand.

Sam started crying. "What do you want," he asked between sobs.

"I just need a little something from you. It's only fair. I gave you something when you were a baby."

"What?" Sam asked. He was scared and curious at the same time.

"I dripped blood in your mouth."

"Gross!"

The demon laughed and said, "Now I need some of your blood. That's how it works. On a child's six month birthday, I drip blood into his mouth and then five years later, I come back and drink some of his blood. Do you know why?"

Sam shook his head and know and tried to back away. The clown grabbed him and shook his head. "Stay put or I'll get mad." He said it in a low tone of voice that was more frightening than if he had yelled it. "Where was I? Oh yes, after I drink your blood, twenty years later, I come back once again and you will be fully obedient to me."

"What does obedient mean?" Sam asked.

"It means you will have to do everything I tell you," the clown explained.

"No way," Sam shouted. The demon put his hand over Sam's mouth and nose once more. "What did I tell you?" he hissed. Sam squirmed and the clown held him even tighter. As soon as Sam stopped struggling he let go. Easier this way, he thought. He grabbed out a knife and made a shallow cut on Sam's arm. The pain roused him and he opened his mouth to scream again, and the clown slapped him. "Hush."

Sam was thoroughly scared by this time and kept quiet. The clown bent down and sucked on the cut he made on Sam's arm. Sam whimpered a little, but otherwise remained quiet. "If you ever tell anyone what happened here, I will kill your father and your brother. Do you understand?"

"My dad's not afraid of you," Sam said. He might be afraid of the clown, but his dad wouldn't be. That was for sure.

"He should be. I killed your mommy, you know."

"My mom died in a fire," Sam said, even though he was pretty sure there was more to the story. Something about the way his father never wanted to talk about it and got all darty-eyed.

"A fire I started in your nursery when she caught me feeding you my blood. So, it would be fitting if I killed your father for finding out about me drinking your blood, wouldn't it?"

"No," Sam cried.

"Yes and your brother, too. Then you could come and live with me."

"No, please, I won't tell, I promise."

"Good boy. Here comes your friend and his mother looking for you," the clown said and disappeared.

End Flashback


	4. Plan

Dean went back to the carnival to look for the clown. After a couple of hours, he decided that the clown had probably split. He called Sam's phone to see what hotel he had ended up at, but got Sam's voice mail.

"That's weird," he said to himself. He set off towards the hotel he would pick and sure enough, the Impala was parked outside. He went inside to find out which room. The clerk gave him the info and Dean went up to the room. He knocked. There was no answer.

He knocked again. "Sam, it's me."

When he didn't get an answer, he picked the lock and went inside. He found Sam frozen stiff and the clown dead at his feet. "Seriously, you're afraid of a dead clown?"

No answer.

He grabbed Sam and pulled him out of the room. Sam perked up immediately outside. "This is ridiculous, Sam."

"I remember what happened," Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"When I was five."

"Well, what?"

Dean waited a long while. "Sam?" he asked again.

"The yellow-eyed demon possessed a clown." He would tell this story one sentence at a time. Maybe he wouldn't tell the whole thing.

"The yellow-eyed demon? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I remember the glowing yellow eyes. He said it was because he was a demon."

"Why didn't you tell us this back then."

"He said if I told he would kill you and dad. He said he killed mom. He said after you were dead I would have to come live with him."

"What did he want?" Dean asked.

Sam was silent for a long time.

"Sam," Dean insisted.

"Just give me a minute, OK," Sam said.

Dean was going to press him further, but one look at Sam's face made him think better of it. They just sat there in silence for five minutes.

Finally Sam said, "He wanted to drink my blood."

"Why?"

"He said when I was six months old, he dripped blood into my mouth and now he had to drink some of mine."

"Why?" Dean asked again. It felt like pulling teeth, but he had a feeling this was bad and didn't blame Sam for not wanting to talk about it.

"He said that would bind me to him and in twenty years I would have to be obedient to him. Dean, that's two years from now."

Dean didn't know what to say. He finally settled for, "A lot can happen in two years. We can kill him."

"With what?"

When Dean didn't answer, Sam said, "Dean, I think I have to…"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Kill myself. I can't let myself become a demon's puppet."

"Sam, no," Dean said, even while he remembered his father's deathbed request. "We can find a way to save you."

Sam gave Dean a sideways look.

"Sam, we have two years. Promise me, you'll give me time."

"I don't know if I can live knowing what's coming."

"Sammy, promise me," Dean said, tears in his eyes.

Sam remained silent staring out into the parking lot.

"Promise me, Sammy," Dean said, one last time, shaking Sam.

"OK, Dean. I'll give you time. But if the demon isn't dead the day before my twenty-fifth birthday, I'm killing myself."

"Well, come on, then. We've got work to do," Dean said and tried for a smile.

Sam tried to smile back, but neither one could quite manage it.

SSSSSSS

The week before Sam's twenty-fifth birthday

Dean had told Sam that he had two separate leads on the demon and they should split up. Dean called Sam. "Sammy, he's dead."

"What? Really? How?"

"I found him and he actually had the Colt on him, if you could believe that. He said it would be poetic to kill me with it and he pulled it out. I charged at him and ended up shooting him. He's dead, Sam. You're free."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "I can't believe it."

"Well, I can. We should celebrate. I'm only a couple of hours away."

"OK, get here quick. I feel good for the first time since Jess died." Sam still choked up at the mention of her name, but at least now her death had been avenged.

Dean hung up, not feeling the least bit guilty about the lie he had just told. After all, they still should have six months before the demon came for Sam, and he knew, just knew, that his brother could never turn evil.

SSSSSSSSSS

Six months later

Sam and Dean were hanging out in their latest hotel room, having just finished a job, when there was a knock at the door. Dean got up to answer it.

"Hello, Dean. Nice to see you again," a man, unknown to Dean began.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you," Dean asked.

"We go way back," the man said as his eyes flashed yellow and he flung Dean across the room.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. Then as an afterthought, "I thought you said he was dead."

"I lied so you wouldn't kill yourself," Dean admitted.

"Now I'm going to turn evil. Thanks a lot."

"Come with me, Sam," the demon ordered.

Sam found himself standing up and walking towards the demon. He didn't want to, but didn't seem to be able to control himself.

"Sammy, come back," Dean yelled from the wall.

"I can't."

"That reminds me, I should probably just get rid of you, once and for all," the demon said, looking at Dean.

"No, please," Sam said.

"Alright, you do it."

Sam's and Dean's eyes both widened. "No, kill me yourself, you bastard." The last thing Dean wanted was to be killed by his brother.

"No, I think this will be much more fun," the demon laughed. He pulled out the Colt. "Use this." He handed it to Sam. Sam took it with a shaky hand, but knew there was no way he was going to miss from this distance.

"Please don't make me do this," he begged, even as he was cocking it.

He looked at Dean, who was looking back at him with love and with one last ounce of his own will he turned and shot the demon. Dean was released from the wall and ran to Sam. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"I don't know. I saw you looking at me and it gave me the strength to fight him somehow. "

"This is really, finally over," Dean said.

"It doesn't seem real to me," Sam said. "It was different when you told me he died. I didn't feel any different. But when I shot him, I actually felt a physical release. Like I had had a leash on my hold life, and it was finally gone. I don't think I ever noticed it before, because I didn't know what it was like not to have it."

"Well, let's go celebrate for real this time,"Dean said.

"Let's," Sam agreed, wholeheartedly.

The End.


End file.
